Bipolar Disorder Type II – The Update

Recently, I’ve been noticing that a blog post that I made when I first created my blog has been getting a lot of traffic. And that’s my story with Bipolar Disorder Type II. As it has been a while since I wrote that post which was back in June 2015, I thought it would be a good idea to make an updated post. And this has been something I’ve been debating on making for a while, but just haven’t figured out the words that I wanted to say.

And I have written a few posts to be honest about this topic so I’m going to try my hardest not to repeat myself. So if you are curious about what I said previously, here are all the blog posts I’ve done before… granted they’ll probably also show up in the Related Posts under this one, but just in case they don’t or down the line where something else replaces that:

When I wrote these posts, I had maybe ten subscribers and almost no traffic to my blog. I more just wrote them for myself as a way to get it off my chest. Granted my posts also went out to my Tumblr account which has around a thousand followers since I created the account back in 2011. But little to no engagement, so it was basically just me talking to myself. Which I don’t mind in the least, as I’m my main audience and if anyone else enjoys or is inspired/learns something from my posts then that’s all just amazing extras.

Now onto the actual update, has I mentioned in the personal experience post from back in 2015, I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type II since I was eighteen years old but have been dealing with it since I was around fourteen or fifteen. So a grand total of eight or nine years. It’s not a stranger around my head these days, but it also isn’t the one pulling the strings anymore. And to think that I’ve even made it to the age of twenty-three is amazing, considering after high school ended I attempted suicide three times. I never did it for attention, hell I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. I pushed all my friends away so there would be “no one” who cared about me so “no one” would miss me when I was gone. Of course, those attempts all failed or one reason or another. One time was my best friend, Melody, coming over to my house and stopping me. Another time as I was so out of it from sleep medication I was also on that caused me to hallucinate I wondered into my sister’s room crying about what the “demons” in my head wanted me to do. This then brought on suicide watch from my parents as well as the removal of my journal and laptop privileges until I was mentally stable again. Which took around a week or two for them to trust me again. Hell! My mom almost called up the college I was supposed to be going to and telling them I was not going to be joining them as she didn’t want me several states away… where I was actually later diagnosed as being Bipolar.

And even though I was diagnosed after having a feeling that I was Bipolar for several months, I didn’t want to accept the diagnosis though it perfectly described the poisons in my head. I took the medications and followed their recommendations, but my mental stability was six feet under and slipping. It didn’t help that after over a year of taking the medication and getting blood draws every week to every other week, that I started to develop paranoia about the medication. I no longer trusted that any emotion I was feeling was real. If I was happy, it was just the medication making me happy. If I was depressed, it was the medication not working. Or if I was angry, it was just the medication. So in a way I was numb to all emotions as I didn’t trust they were real, and all activities or relationships in my life seemed pointless. And without recommendation from my doctors, I stopped taking the medication because I didn’t trust myself when I was on it. I didn’t trust anything about what was going on in my head. And to this day, I still have an issue with taking any medication or going to see the doctor because I don’t 100% trust that the medications I need to take work. I know they do and it’s all just in my head, but it’s kind of hard to make your the illogical side listen to reason. It’s the same reason I suffered from self-harm for so many years.

Years have passed since then. And it wasn’t easy an easy journey, I’ve had many relapses of wanting to cut myself and mood cycles that have left me questioning if I need to get more medical help. But I can safely say whenever I cycle these days, my first instinct is not to go find the closest thing to hurt myself with. I haven’t hurt myself in around three years, I can’t remember actually when I stopped but it was somewhere around when I got Pixie. She seriously means the world to me, whenever I’m sad or feel my depression/negative thoughts creeping up on me I always know paying attention to her by either playing catch or taking her for a walk in the woods always resets my head back to a more steady state. Pixie might not be a registered therapy dog, but in a way she is my therapy dog.

And as of a few months ago, I’ve been debating going back on medication even though I’ve been off all medication for Bipolar Disorder for four years… if you don’t count large amounts of fish oil pills that I was recommended to have when I was diagnosed. Granted it was supposed to be along side of medication and not just what I take instead whenever I remember or feel like it. But I’ve been debating on going back on medication, because the cycles are starting to get to the point where they’re effecting my life both personally and professionally. Which is the exact opposite of what I want.

If you have any tips on getting past the paranoia of medication being in control of you, instead of just stabilizing the chemicals in your brain let me know. As I would seriously appreciate it! Also if you have a mental illness, don’t leave it unchecked. There are people out there that can help you.